


Paper Craft

by Zhilaohu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, F/F, F/M, Fae Magic, Gen, Ice Powers, M/M, Multi, Nymphs & Dryads, Other, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Sex Magic, Some Fluff, Technobabble, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, Wyverns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhilaohu/pseuds/Zhilaohu
Summary: "What do you mean you can Spin Chorus?"
"Eh? Just that. I've always been able to do it. It's not much and I'm pretty useless at it, to be honest"
"But you're Human!"
In a world where the Other is known but hidden, Yuuri is a simple shrine hand at Hasetsu. His life is spent communing with minor gods, helping out at his family onsen and rooting around old border lines for Old Tech. When he meets a runaway weyr-kin, he is thrust into a conflict very few humans survive and his very existence will turn the tide of a Cold War that's been brewing for centuries.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo, again. First off, I would like to apologize for taking down this story. I uploaded a draft and I wasn't at all happy with it. Plus, I needed to reconfigure the entire piece. Hence the new one and it's here to stay.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments I got. I hope you'll give this a read too.
> 
> I'll be mindful to keep my updates timely.
> 
> Happy reading!

 

 

* * *

**_Prologue_. **

_Yuri barely remembered it, a Time before the Fall. Viktor often spoke about it, conjuring up images of long summer days spent beneath the mountain’s Sapphire Spring waterfalls, scourging for trapped fresh water crabs and following the short tributary rivers that emptied into quiet ponds filled with pod-plum blossoms and floating lily-pads. On such days the sky was an even ever expanding blue, the kind that came with crushed stones from far off beaches that filled Viktor's pockets when he returned from his trips with their parents. Yuri was often stuck antiquating with the castle tutor, a chore he took entirely too lightly for her liking as he was more apt to secure a thunder beast’s freedom from the stables and ride off towards the Silver Peaks until the Guard secured his return. More often than not, he got himself back home without military intervention but got scolded all the same. Viktor often sneaked into his room after these lectures, smuggling in sheaves of parchment and helping Yuri unroll them on the canvas stands that dotted his quarters. Yuri kept an artist’s hovel even then, with paintbrushes clustered in empty circuit tins and stacked in paint smeared drawers. It drove the maids mad and as much as they cleared up after him, Yuri was sure to put it to rights again. There was a certain charm to the disorderly atmosphere and Yuri found that he could concentrate all the more easily amongst the clutter rather than the Spartan retinue his parents often demanded of him. Viktor once confided that the humans had a theory around such personalities; geniuses or rather the industry of creativity thrived so much more amidst clutter. ‘Order from disorder, Yura’._

 

_If anyone exemplified Order among their kind, it was Vitya. There had always been a regalness about him, an untouchable untainted quality that set him far above everyone else. Yura felt it too and at first had been irredeemably angry at him, frustrated by the constant comparisons from his parents, the staff and just about everyone else who met the two. Hence begun his campaign at catching up; if he couldn’t be an equal, then he’d damn well work his tail off catching up._

_Y_ _uri approximates the Attack through his Images. Though he considers his trait virtually useless in most things, there has always been a slim chance of certainty to his visions. On this night, a shade of imperceptible gray fills up his vision, and distorts the otherwise tranquil Lake_ s _cene recreated from a memorable afternoon. The black swirls in his paint mixture and bleeds into the blues and yellows. At seven years old, the image is discomforting but is such a familiar pattern that he hardly thinks much of it. He watches, detached and hand on automatic as he sketches a scene so clogged with smoke he swears he can smell its taint on him. They come for him in the night. Yuri startles awake and shifts in his cocoon of blankets, taking care not to bring too much attention to his little corner of the room. As always, whenever he Visions and Viktor’s not around, he avoids his bed. Because everything, every decision, every probability leads to this and by the Heart-stone he’s not ready. He’s not ready to leave or say goodbye. He wants to yell out loud, pierce the night with his screams, bring some sort of semblance to an already disordered life. Would his brother hear him? All the way across the Ice plains? Would the grey fog carry his message?_

 

_Our Kingdom is falling, Viktor. I’m about to die._

 

_They’ve begun banging against his door in earnest now and Yuri watches the smoke curl and drift in from the outside. His canvases and stands are gorged in shadow, their outlines flickering like distended projectors from the Old Age. The sight of it all is too nauseating and Yuri shuts his eyes, opting instead to rely on his other senses. Beyond the door he can pick up two individuals. The hallways are in disarray and he’s willing to bet that most of the human servants are long past dead. Did they choke in the smog or was it a more direct act? There’s no honor in killing humans. They are weak and they grovel too much. Even those who Spark can barely defend themselves against Yuri’s kind. But he is saddened all the same. He knows some good ones, Fay from the kitchen who constantly delights him with her myriad creations from her home village and Takumi the stable boy who always tries bribing the thunder beasts with carrots and gets a face full of tail feathers for his troubles. He hopes they escaped to safety, if it can be found. It is then that the smell registers and Yuri throws off his meager blanket shield. By now, the room is clogged with sweet smelling nocturne blossom and as he races for the windows, he can feel his senses dulling. With shaking hands, he draws back the curtains and fumbles with the window’s latches. Fresh air will be just the thing that can turn the tides. It was beyond stupid to have completely barricaded himself like this without an avenue of escape. The fumes rise and swell into a crescendo and his legs collapse beneath him, he scrapes his elbow on the sill. Hissing quietly, he unsheathes a small knife from his boot. If he is going to die today, he might as well die fighting._

 

_No Nikiforov falls like a coward._

 

_They fall in like a secondhand wave and much like his Vision, they’re a mass of gray spilling into his colourful workshop. They upend his paintings and tear down his monitors. Rapidly fading, Yuri watches with baited breath as they slowly make their way to him. The latter hardly matters. He’s already sent a message to Viktor and only his brother can decode the Alternate should the bastards find it. Rapidly fading, Yuri watches with baited breath as they slowly make their way to him. By now his hands are numb, fingers barely tingling on the onyx handle and it takes most of his concentration to keep his blade aloft. He senses more than hears his adversaries laugh as they easily knock it aside. Their faces meld and merge like wraiths as his drugged mind tries to make sense of it all. The closest blur produces a small satchel from his breast pocket and tips its contents onto his palm. Yuri is immediately on the move as he recognizes it. The fight is brief but it does takes all four to hold him down as they carefully fit the collar around his slim neck. As soon as it clicks shut, the internal dart activates and floods his already compromised system with more nocturne. He whines, low and quiet, as his world finally fogs to black._

_Viktor..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my little piece and the kudos. Here's the next bit. I'd love to know what you think.

When Minako leaves him by the small clearing ‘for just a bit Yuuri, I’ll be right back’, Yuuri naturally has the expectation that she will be back . Because that’s what Mage masters do in these situations; they look out for their students and more or less guide them into their own Maturities. Mage Masters who know that their students have never stepped foot out of Hasestsu Villages' Ley Lines and possess slightly finicky natures that mirror their Gifts all too much and can startle civilizations out of existence with a single hiccup are hardly flighty.

 

Thankfully, or not, Yuuri is not one of them.

 

His Gift is meager, branched from the Illusionist Art and Tied in paper, Yuuri’s creations are abstract little thought patterns with no discernible benefits. Minako, on examination, had remarked that he would be useless in the Kingdom’s court unless he wanted to depose the Joker or set up in the Royal Ward and entertain future generations. While it was an honour to be born Sparked, trainee mages also faced the potential stigma from society if their powers were non combative or at the very least useful.

 

Ah, to be a useful Hasetsu Mage, it was every Spinner’s dream. As soon as they Presented, they were tested by the local mage. If their power was deemed acceptable, they moved on to the Capital’s Rink Tower to study with other esteemed Crafters. If not, they often fell by the wayside, studying for a few years under their local guides before taking on an apprenticeship.

Yuri’s situation was a complex one. Though he Presented a useless Gift, his was such that t could not be ignored. He would have happily taken over running his family’s Hot Spring shrine and temple but Minako insisted that he keep up with his lessons, if only to get a better grasp and avoid potential accidents. Yuuri snorted, rising from his warm pile of leaves and dusting himself off. Opening his notebook, he traced a small fire, the drakt glyph easily palmed and watched as the illusion flickered to life. it wasn’t much for a strong light source but it would do till he found his way back to the village. He spared another glance at the clearing before he set off. Navigating by the rising West Star and his own ghostly orb, Yuuri carefully wended his way amongst the bramble, taking care not trip amongst the multitude of raised tree roots. He’d lived here all his life and knew the trails as well as he knew the individualized flavours of his favorite katsudon dish. It’s also imperative, as the smallest boy in Hasestu, to develop certain skills to evade the local bullies or bully in this case. Yuuri couldn’t recall the number of times when,walking home with Yuko, Takeshi, the blacksmith’s son blocked their path and tried to goad Yuuri into a fight. As the sole Presenter in Hasetsu, Takeshi’s attitude towards the small boy had only soured through time and he took great pleasure in reminding Yuuri of his place.

However, like most villagers, he never dared venture into the forest unaccompanied or at least in the possession of a triometer. It wasn’t unheard of for stragglers or daredevils, even those who kept close to its edge, to end up hopelessly lost, often turning up dazed and confused days, weeks and once, even years later. Now this would have been marked off as unfortunate if the stragglers hadn’t claimed to have spent only a night in the woods, despite months of absence. Stranger still was that their own bodies were locked in a curious stasis so much so that Weir healers found it difficult to match up their blood diagnostics on the Wyr Charts. Mari, Yuuri’s sister and a Weir Healer in training once explained it as the in between state. Their hearts beat but slow, slower than ice rabbits in winter. Their skin was often so pale that you could easily see the blue web of veins beneath. By all accounts, they hardly had enough strength to stay conscious let alone wander about. It was Mari’s great dream to figure out this mystery and her intense study in anatomy and Weir technology had easily made her one of the best Healer consultants. Her Master Healer was quite proud of her achievements and his one despair was trying to get her to quit the pipe. Yuuri didn’t think that could ever happen. Mari idolized Minako and Yuuri's teacher was a notorious Pipe smoker. Though Capital customs regarded women pipers as eccentric, the practice was still frowned upon by the traditionalists. Women were demure creatures, slow to speak and quick to heed. Minako was no such thing. Since she had set up her practice in Hasetsu, she had proven quick in dispelling the Elders, who were keen on cementing alliances with a famous Capital Healer. Mari and Yuuri had liked her moxy, dogging in her steps till she Spun a trick or two.

 

When Yuuri had first Spun, she’d watched patiently, face impassive as hiccup after hiccup of bright puff fell from his hands. He hadn’t felt the need to impress her, Minako was like that; hard to please, harder still to get along with but there was still something. He’d chalked it down to a mage instinct, maybe he _did_ want her approval in some sense but how could he get that with mere Illusion Spin? He’d expected her to quietly discontinue their lessons once he’d mastered the basics, especially after his disastrous Presenting at the Council Rink so it came as a huge surprise to not only himself but to his family when Minako declared her intention to guide him for as long as he wanted. Yuuri had accepted, hurriedly helping his mother to clear the dinner dishes in an effort to hide his tears. He wasn’t so sure he’s succeeded when Minako’s mouth curled some around her ever present pipe. Yuuri would have given anything for her snark right now (because she’s an emancipated Capital female runaway and she needs to _vent_ ).

 

He gave a gusty sigh as he dug into his coat pocket for his triometer. He'd found it on a junk dive a day away from Hasetsu and fied its parts from an old manual his dad had brought back from the Capital. They were notoriously difficult to acquire and expensive. Apart from Minako, no one else knew he had one. He brought it close to his face and fogged up the screen, rubbing it clean on his jacket sleeve. The instrument’s low glow helped Yuuri while he calibrated the West Star’s position. He waited as the three dials spun, twitching and jerking in his hold. This wasn’t new. After the Fall, dragon kin had used Wyr technology to erect a barrier between human and dragon. Hasetsu was at the very edge of the Kingdom and bordered the Wyr Lands to the North, where the creatures lived. Having been born long after the Fall, Yuuri and his sister had only ever grown up with Elder gossip about the creatures; As tall as twenty men stacked head to foot upon each other and eyes as red as pod-blums after a monsoon. They were faster than Roos in the threshing fields and their bodies were as hard as old adamantine, armoured thick with scales the color of their respective clans. They hadn’t been seen for centuries but the Border held. Hasetsu, being at the very edge of the Kingdom suffered the worst from the magnetic and ley line disturbances. They often had to revert to analog machinery for their everyday lives in the charged atmosphere. As such, most visitors whose Alternates were more adapted to lighter electro-magnetic frequencies found it harder if not impossible to stick around Hasetsu for long periods of time. Hasetsu’s own Alternates were crude things. Outback creations often are. They curled in a mass of stiff copper neo- plates that were easily recycled for current upkeep.

 

Yuuri’s own Alternate was a simple thing that curled along the pinna of his ear and needled into the lobe. Though it could could easily pick up and translate Capital, it was more or less useless if one wanted to translate the sub dialects in the lesser regions. Most Hasestu citizens who moved inwards often got their implants upgraded or replaced them altogether. Wasn’t the smartest choice, but it could be done.

Humming, Yuuri re-orientated South and moved rapidly through the brush. Dallying in the forest, even with a working triometer was jst asking for trouble. Only when he found a well worn cutter’s path did he relax into a steady gait. The night was bright and airy and he could indulge himself for a while. he threw up his bauble of light and sent it to hover above his head, lighting up his path.

Minako had probably ditched him for a sake run in the Square. Honestly, after today, Yuuri would have ditched him too. The day had been a disaster and none of his Spins had taken. Not even a simple shrine summon had worked and he _lived_ in a shrine! he might as well be a direct conduit.

 While Minako was a patient teacher, Yuuri knew she could only take so much and he had subtly been trying to cut the day short for both their sakes. His incompetence worked on his nerves too and no amount of incessant encouragement could change the fact that he just wasn’t improving. But really, who wanted to improve on Illusion magic? Maybe he could look into a machinery apprenticeship? It would be wonderful to construct structures with suitable shields to work around the Border. He loved old tech and he could easily see himself just tinkering with it for the rest of his life. Musing on this, it took him a while to register the odd noise that had joined the nightly cacophony in the woods. It was an odd buzzing sound, crackly in static and tasted of burnt toast at the back of his throat. Yuuri stuttered, resisting the need to scratch at his arms and reached for his knife. He carefully nicked his palm and drew blood. Sketching a quick drakt sigil on his arm, he resumed his walk picking up the pace. Whatever it was, it wasn’t native. He hoped he’d draw it out with the scent of his blood. Creatures, no matter their classification in the divinity spectrum always drew back to their primitivism when faced with blood. Yuuri had no inclination to go hunting. Or be the hunted for that matter.

 


End file.
